The Stone of Souls
by blade-of-the-shadows
Summary: Godric uses his 'Griffindor Stupidity' and Salazar ends up in a centuries-later Hogwarts where he meets a one Harry Potter. In all his looks, Harry is a replica of Godric but their personalities are completely different. If you ask Salazar, he kinda acts like a Slytherin...excuse the pun. Salazar misses Godric but can't help but be attracted to Harry...Post-war Dont like dont read
1. Preface

Happy Birthday! You know who you are!

* * *

Sunlight streamed into the room, highlighting the dust motes in the air. It was a large room; the walls, ceiling and floor was made of dark colored stone. Arrays of bookshelves lined the walls, each shelf crammed with books and more books were piled on the ground nearby, tittering slightly to the side.

An unlit fireplace disrupted the rows of bookshelves; a deep forest green love seat in front of it. Closest to the window was a large, black-and-silver marble desk of which held books, papers, ink wells, quills and more in a disarray. The owner of this room wasn't the tidiest of men, despite the image he appeared in front of others.

Beside the desk, a plush green arm chair in which sat a man. A man of inky black curls and warm emerald eyes, an excited smile on plump red lips. A broad set of shoulders and expanse of chest. One large, tan arm stretching down to grip a sword with a huge, tan hand. A sword of pure silver, a wicked glint produced only by basilisk venom. A golden hilt embedded with egg-sized rubies, and upon that hilt...inscribed was the name _Godric Griffindor. _

But pay no mind to this man, but to the man beside him, sitting in a large black chair. The owner of the room. This man had the palest of pale skin, not quite translucent as other pale skinned peoples, but alabaster in color...and in warmth. Silky, long black hair tied loosely with a green ribbon, a few tendrils coming loose to curl slightly around his face. Icy blue eyes glared at the man beside him, the slightest of warmth in them betraying his emotion. Around his neck, resting lightly between two delicate collar bones, was a lovely silver locket. Engraved with a swirly letter _S_.

Curled around his chair was a beautiful, large green snake. She curved protectively around her master and his partner, hissing slightly in content. The man-who was indeed Salazar Slytherin; his partner, Godric Griffindor-turned to his lovely pet, hissing out a question.

"_What is it, Nagini love? I cannot quite fathom why one such as you would be so peaceful." _Nagini raised her head delicately at her master, tongue lashing out to taste the air.

_"I apologise, Salazar. I am only just enjoying this last moment we have together, before you leave. I fear you will not be returning, master."_ Nagini was a powerful snake; things no others could sense was only but her specialty.

Salazar's brow furrowed in confusion and just as he opened his mouth to ask of her what she meant, Godric-who had been impatiently waiting as Salazar spoke to Nagini-nearly jumped out of his chair, talking rapidly.

"Sal'. You'll never guess what I just found! I was out exploring the lands, cause it gets boring here at Hogwarts sometimes, and I saw it glinting in the light. It reminded me of your eyes, so I just had to pick it up." He thrust his hands out eagerly, revealing cloth covered...something, presumably a rock of some kind. If the shape was anything to go by.

Scowling, Salazar eyed the cloth wearily. Much later in the future, many would associate this weariness with 'Slytherin cowardess' but at the moment, it was a wise decision to look at the cloth covered thing in such a way, since it did, in fact, change the rest of his life. Now, on the other hand, a rightfully labeled 'Griffindor stupidity (or recklessness, depending on who you talk to) was being used by Godric himself.

Salazar's scowl deepened. He knew his partner would become depressed if he did not accept the gift. It pained him greatly to see Godric in such a state. So, already regretting his decision, Salazar reached out and flipped the cotton over.

He let out a small, quiet gasp of surprise. Directly in the middle of the cloth rested-unbeknownst to them-a large ice blue topaz. Naturally cut, it shined blue beams of light in every which away direction as sunlight streamed from the window directly onto it.

Godric smiled brightly at Salazar's reaction."Go on then. Touch it. I held it earlier; nothing will happen." But what Godric didn't know was that the stone actually was magical. Only the correct holder would be able to unconscious activate the magic in the stone.

Hesitantly, Salazar reached out to touch it; pressing the tips of his fingers lightly to the stone. Underneath, it was unnaturally warm. Frowning, Salazar made to pull back.

His frown deepened as panic and suspicion rose. He couldn't release his fingers! The temperature of the topaz increased and Salazar felt a gut-wrenching sensation. The last thing he heard was Godric shouting his name as everything went black.

* * *

Thoughts? I rushed a bit to finish this preface, I admit. But the rest will be better, PROMISE.


	2. Return of the Slytherin

Harry sat uncomfortably in the new Headmistresses office. It was only a month or two after the war and he had returned to Hogwarts to complete his last year. Well, he would be, once the new semester starts. McGonagall had called him in earlier for a meeting. 'Eighth Year' everyone called it, although Harry couldn't understand why. Even if they were all supposed to graduate a year ago, hadn't learnt anything from the last year. Since, you know, they _were_ all running for their lives. Though, technically speaking, it _would_ be there eighth year attending Hogwarts.

But no matter. Harry sat very uncomfortably. It was funny, because he actually sat in a very plush chair. But what was making him uncomfortable was his Professor crying in front of him. Professor McGonagall sat behind the large desk in the office, crying. The usually stoic woman had broken down in front of Harry after trying to talk to him in about the after-effects of the war.

Snape, now recovered, also sat in the room; he was just as uncomfortable as Harry. But, very much so unlike Harry-who said Griffindors really were brave? Pshh, more like reckless and stupid-the larger man chose to express how he felt on the matter.

"Oh, for Salazar sakes, woman. Get your act together. To act in such a way, in front of a student, no less. Do all Griffindors act with such lack in dignity?" Snape sneered.

The sneering comment took affect immediately and McGonagall snapped her head up to glare at Snape. "Oh, please Severus. What do you know how I feel? I am sure you and your _Slytherins_," she spat the word, "were unaffected by the war. At least, not emotionally."

Fury lit a fire in Snape's onyx eyes and the Potions Master quickly stood to tower over McGonagall. "Emotionally?" he asked in a deadly calm voice; the silk baritone making his voice seem more dangerous than usual. "Emotionally each and every one of my students are suffering. Majority of them will have to spend _the rest of their lives _living in the shadows due to their parents being Death Eaters. Many of them will have to live ridiculed and under surveillance because their parents _forced them _to become Death Eaters."

He was shouting by then, but suddenly the light in his eyes died out; slumping back in his chair, Snape let his voice fall to a whisper. "And the rest...the rest are either broken beyond repair or dead."

Anguish filled Harry and he scooted his chair closer to Snape's and grabbed the larger man's hand and squeeze it comfortingly. He had grown a soft spot for the Potions Master during the war, when he had seen the true side of Snape after the man was bit by Nagini. Harry found out much from that one occurrence-Snape's relationship with his mother and why his father acted that way toward the man.

Harry spent many hours with Snape in the Infirmary as he healed from Nagini's poison, which effects had lessened after the death of the snake. Harry learned that Snape had many different sides to him and he was the only one to see the man's real side...well and one other.

Draco Malfoy was the godson of Snape and therefore paid many visits to the Infirmary. It was through that way that Harry learned that Malfoy was the same as Snape in the art of appearances. Harry learned a lot about the blond man that contradicted what he used to think. Now, Harry spent most of his time with the two Slytherins and even went as far as to call them friends. Especially if the more-than-overprotective actions the two had around Harry were anything to go by.

"Harry?" The calling of his name and the light squeezing of his hand startled Harry from his thoughts and he turned to look at the concerned faces of his Professors. He smiled shakily and shook his head at the two.

"No, sorry. I'm fine. Just thinking." AS the two Professors shared a _look_, Harry rushed to change the topic back to the original discussion. "Ahem. Professor McGonagall. About the state of Lady Hogwarts, she is healing nicely-albeit slowly." The Headmistress looked at hi strangely at the title he gave Lady Hogwarts, but Harry dismissed it. All the magic going about during the war had somehow affected his magical core and he was very magic-sensitive, which led him to the discovery that Lady Hogwarts was a living, breathing thing. He had his suspicions during school, it had to have been more than magi with everything that happened in Hogwarts.

He continued. "As majority of the war took place inside the Great Hall or outside, most of the classes are operable. The start of term should go smoothly, as most of the Great Hall has already been rebuilt by our lovely Lady. Other than that, our main problem lies with the magical residue around the school-which has been steadily been decreasing-and our lack of a DADA Professor. We need a credible Professor, for once."

At that, McGonagall grimaced. Finding a good DADA Professor would be difficult. A good DADA Professor would, for one, have to have a vast knowledge in the Dark Arts and was a proficient caster of Dark Spells. The best way to defend yourself against a Dark Spell was to know it yourself, inside and out. Next, the Professor would have to at least have a little fighting experience, apart from wizard dueling which had rules. Can't teach the students how to fight if you don't know.

Other, less important criteria were also needed to be met, but were irrelevant at the moment. The point is, it was near impossible to find a wizard who met both of the first criteria. After the war, the Ministry took every Dark Spellcaster or one who knew how to cast Dark Spells into custody. The only reason Snape wasn't with them was because majority of the school _and _Dumbledore-through his will-vouched for him.

"Well..." McGonagall began shakily. "Harry. You are more than qualified to take over that position. I am willing to overlook your last year and taking the NEWTs if you are willing to take over the position." She looked at him hopefully. Snape snorted.

This time, Harry grimaced. Snape knew how he felt about the Dark Arts but McGonagall didn't. "I'm sorry, Professor, but I can't. You see, I vowed to never involve myself in the Dark Arts or anything relating to it ever again, with the exception of the DADA class and NEWT exam this year. I-I can't take anymore of it, Professor. In fact, I don't plan on joining the Auror training program anymore. I know that because I am Harry bloody Potter, I will never be out of the limelight. So I decided to pursue by favorite hobby and join some National Quidditch team."

The Headmistress' face fell and she gave a defeated sigh at the determined look on Harry's face. "Well, then. I will have to end today's meeting earlier than planned. We will meet up again tomorrow, same time. In the meanwhile, I will began searching for a new DADA Pro-"

A loud apparation-like pop interrupted McGonagall, echoing throughout the room. The pop was followed by a series of loud-and very vulgar-curse from a voice that was impossibly silkier and velvetier than Snape's baritone. For some reason, that voice made Harry's voice thump loudly in his chest and his breath hitch in his throat.

He slowly turned to the source, eyes widening. The thumping of his heart grew painful and he couldn't breathe. The man before him was _magnificent_. Long black hair flowed down his back, tamed into a green silk ribbon with only a few strands coming lose to curl seductively around his face and slender, pale neck. Pale, pale alabaster skin stretched over taunt muscles, begging to be licked and bitten. The man was tall and thin, but emitted power. Power greater than Dumbledore's, Harry's, and Voldemort's fused together.

But what drew Harry in were the man's eyes ice. Icy fire that looked as if the never felt heat. Blue orbs that out the saying 'if looks could kill' into great use. Eyes that were, at the moment, locked with Harry's own green orbs. Eyes that slowly traveled down his body, warming and freezing him at the same time; a shiver of pleasure slipped down his back and he closed his eyes.

"Merlin." A voice-Snape's-beside him breathed. "It couldn't be. But...how?" A thump near the table indicated that the Headmistress fainted.

Harry opened his eyes. The man sneered at McGonagall's prone form before returning his gaze to Harry. The movement caused something at his neck to flash and Harry's eyes flicked downward. They widened and Harry gulped.

Around the mysterious man's neck sat a very much so familiar locket. A locket that was supposed to be locked up in a chest back at the Black Estate, blackened from the curse used to destroy the Horcrux inside it. A locket that was seemed to be in pristine condition and clearly showed the _S _on front.

"Salazar Slytherin...in Hogwarts, flesh and blood." Snape sounded faint, as if he was ready to pass out beside McGonagall. But, with the creator of his House right in front of him, Snape would have rathered to be tortured by Voldemort or Bellatrix than to pass out. Harry's eyes were once again locked with Slytherin's.

The man smirked in such a way that would put every Slytherin in history to shame, minus the man himself. "In flesh and blood? Quite right." His velvet chocolate voice flowed over Harry and the bespectacled man could do nothing but reclose his eyes.

Another shiver shook his body and he couldn't help but let out one word, said completely in Parsletongue. "_Salazar."_


	3. DADA Professor WANTED

Salazar was surprised, but he did well to not the emotion pass across his face. Last he remembered, his idiotic lover presented him with a mysterious stone. In order to appease Godric, Salazar went ahead to pick up the stone. Now, here he is-in a fucked up version of Godric's office-a passed out woman behind Godric's desk-which looked old and faded for some reason-, a man that vaguely reminded Salazar of a bat, and a young man who looked exactly like Godric when he was about seventeen, though the hair of the young man in front of him was exceptionally messier and the man was bespectacled.

The bespectacled man was also considerably smaller than Godric, in height and size. But the heated, lust-filled look the boy unconsciously sent him made him shiver almost uncontrollably, just as Godric's same emerald gaze did. Fortunately, Salazar was more than proficient in mastering his emotions and reactions, so the others didn't notice his slip up.

"Salazar Slytherin...in Hogwarts, flesh and blood." The man beside the Godric look-alike breathed out, his already pale complexion growing pasty. He looked ready to join the despicable woman on the floor. He turned to smirk at the man, eyes leaving the interesting young man for only a moment.

"In flesh and blood? Quite right." His eyes slid back to the man who captured his attention the most. The man's emerald green eyes, so much like Godric's, were closed in rapture and a shiver passed through his small frame. _Fascinating, _Salazar couldn't help but think, his smirk growing. Then the man suddenly spoke.

"_Salazar." _ His eyes were still closed and the man sounded as if he didn't know he had spoken. Salazar stared at the man in shock; not because he had spoken, but because of the language the man used to speak in. A language that Salazar himself had created and had not even created a name for. A language only spoken by Salazar and Nagini... for Nagini, in fact.

And yet, here was another who could speak his language. A certain icy rage filled Salazar. "Boy." Emeralds were revealed to look at Salazar, widened in shock at his sudden furiously cold voice. "How, pray tell, do you know of that language and it would only benefit yourself if you told the truth."

The man sat up in surprise and blinked at Salazar, his plush red lips parted. Salazar's irritation only grew and he reverted to speaking his snake language, something he did when his mood was bad. "_Who are you?" _he hissed out.

The man snapped from whatever trance he was in and took a deep breath. "_I am Harry Potter. Lord Slytherin, you are not in your own time, but in a year many centuries after your death. The language you created became hereditary and a descendant of yours spoke this language. The same descendant became a Dark Lord and, after his attempt to kill me, passed a piece of his soul into me. That piece carries the knowledge of Parsletongue-what we wizards today call this language."_

_"Hmm. Centuries after my death, you say? Interesting..." _His eyes left the young man-Harry Potter-and traveled around the room. Underneath the ghastly trinkets and such, the room was indeed Godric's office. Salazar's trained eye caught the familiar placements; the bookshelves, desks, chairs, everything was almost just as he knew it to be. But in his memory, everything was new and fresh, whereas the furniture in the room now looked worn and used.

Salazar reached out with his mind, searching for the magical core he knew belonged to Lady Hogwarts, as he helped form her. His eyed widened as he found her, many centuries old and not the fresh, young core she used to be. Her magic was many times stronger than Salazar remembered, but still she greeted him warmly; recognizing one of her creators.

Potter's eyes widened and he gave a slight gasp. Salazar turned to him, an eyebrow raised in question.

"I-I can..._feel _you...and _her." _Potter gulped and took a shaky breath._ "_Sh-she recognizes you."

Salazar sneered, no doubt the boy was a pupil under the Griffindor House, if their system succeeded and the magically created Sorting Hat did its implied job. "As she should, since I am one of her creators. But I would rather like to know of how you know this. You appear to be full of surprises, Mr. Potter. "

"Oh, well. A-after the war, you see-"

"War?"

"Ah, um...damn-"

"Lord Slytherin, if you will please excuse my interruption, but this _boy_-" Potter visibly flinched. "does not know what he speaks of."

Salazar sent the man a smirk. "On the contrary, Mr.-"

"Snape. Severus Snape."

"Mr. Snape...but I do believe Mr. Potter _does_, in fact, know what he is speaking of..Unless, of course, you are implying that _I _do not know what I am also speaking of. Because I _do _know what Mr. Potter is talking about." Salazar's voice grew colder with each word he spoke and slowly his smirk disappeared.

The man-Snape-sat, his face again, paler than before. Potter gaped, his gaze alternating between Salazar and Snape. His eyes finally went to Salazar's and stayed there.

Salazar returned the gaze, motioning for Potter to continue.

"Yes, well...The war began with the same Dark Wizard who treid to kill me. You see, a prophecy was made about the two of us and it basically said that one of us couldn't live with the other alive. So, he tried to kill me. I didn't die and became some big 'Prophecy boy' and all that. And well, a few months ago, that same Dark wizard-Voldemort's his name-infiltrated Hogwarts through the Room of Requirement-"

"Really? I always told that idiotic fool, Godric, that building that room would cause some problems. Who knew it would turn one of the safest places in all of Britain to become a war-zone. Ah, yes, continue."

"Well, see, that's exactly what happened: Hogwarts was a war-zone. It was horrible. I wish to never have to live it again." A haunted look entered Potter's eyes, one that should not of been in the eyes of one so young. "But, you see, I've always been a bit more...magically sensitive than others; being exposed to such a strong spell so young affected me that way. But the war...the war only made it worse. Luckily, I haven't been around others too much, or else I would constantly be sick or passing out from magical overload. The only good thing is now I can feel Lady Hogwarts, a majestic lady indeed. I, myself, have too much magic than I can control."

Salazar raised an eyebrow, intrigued. _For one so young to have so much power, it must have been driving Potter crazy. _"Have you ever thought to take a suppression potion? I know one exists that have no longer-term effects if taken continuously, as I created it."He turned to Snape.

The Potions Master returned his gaze coolly. "Lord Slytherin, if I may say, but many potions and spells that exist in your time has been lost many centuries ago. This potion you speak included, it would seem."

Salazar pressed his lips together in a thin, white line. "No matter. It takes almost nothing to recreate the potion." He turned to Potter. "That is, of course, if you a re willing to take it, Mr. Potter."

"No!" He burst out before widening his eyes and blushing. "I-sorry. I mean, no thank you. I've been handling it quite well, so I'll have to decline, sorry."

"Oh? Then what will you do when the students return to Hogwarts. You said it yourself that it was a good thing they weren't here. Else you would be constantly sick or passing out. That would not be the healthiest of ifestyles, Mr. Potter." Salazar replied smoothly. Snape snorted and turned to Potter.

"Mr. Potter, I suggest you get over your dislike for the taste of potions and take Lord Slytherin's offer. It _is _a one in a lifetime chance and I am sure it would be beneficial if you do so. No need to call attention to yourself by constantly passing out."

Potter grimaced and shook his head. "You're right, Professor." He faced Salazar, determination now in his eyes. "Sir...I will accept your offer, please."

Salazar nodded. "Very well, Mr. Potter."

* * *

"So you see, Lord Slytherin, as I do not know of this stone you speak of and as it did not travel with you, I am not sure on how you will return. My predecessor, Albus Dumbledore, would know but he is unfortunately way from his picture at the moment. You see, he died during the war."

The woman had awakened and introduced herself as the Headmistress of Hogwarts, Minerva McGonagall. Potter and Snape left upon her request and now Salazar found himself in Potter's chair, listening to McGonagall ramble on about how she couldn't send him back.

"I apologize for the inconvenience, Lord Slytherin, but I am afraid that you will have to await Dumbledore's return to identify this stone so we can located it. In the meantime, it would be of my great pleasure to have you stay here at Hogwarts." She paused. " Of course, it isn't in my power to say such a thing. Ah, though I am sure you would like your old rooms?"

Salazar gave her a sneer. "That would be most satisfactory, though _I _am most certain my rooms have been put to use for something else, seeing as Godric's old rooms have become those of the Headmaster...Headmistress in this case."

McGonagall flushed deeply. "I-of course, Lord Slytherin. Many rooms have gone unused in Hogwarts; a room will be prepared for you right away. Dobby!" A loud pop revealed an eager looking house elf wearing multiple hats stacked upon his head, too large socks on his feet and his ears flopping about in a very unbecoming way. Salazar did nothing but raise an eyebrow, though he was mortified by the sight. "Dobby, can you prepare the best unused room we have here at Hogwarts, for Lord Salazar Slytherin?"

The house elf turned his large eyes to Salazar, impossibly widening them more. "Yes! If course, Headmaster Mistress. Dobby will be on it right away, Headmaster Mistress." He said in a squeaky voice before popping away.

"It will only take a moment or so for him to arrange an appropriate room for you, Lord Slytherin, but would you like a cup of tea?"

"Are you in possession of Grey Earl?" McGonagall nodded. "Then, yes. A cup would be accepted." She nodded again and waved her wand. A tray of steaming hot tea appeared on the desk in front of Salazar, an array of sweets on a platter beside it.

Salazar pursed his lips. Though efficient, conjured tea did not have the same quality of prepared tea. He said nothing but accepted the cup handed to him. He took a large whiff, closing his eyes and allowing a small smile to grace his features. The smoky scent of Grey Earl immediately calmed him and relaxed his muscles. Salazar blew on the rim lightly; taking a small sip.

Another pop resounded in the room and Salazar opened his eyes to see the small elf, once returned. "The rooms are tidy, as you ask Dobby Headmaster Mistress. Done nice for Lord Salazar Slytherin. May I go back to the kitchen, Headmaster Mistress?"

"Not yet, Dobby. After Lord Slytherin finishes his tea, you must escort him to his room." McGonagall said sternly.

"Yes, Headmaster Mistress. Dobby will escort Lord Salazar Slytherin."

Salazar took his time in finishing his tea. It was unbecoming to rush in anything one does. As he drunk, he watched as McGonagall flustered about the room, scattering papers. Once she caught him looking, she gave him an apologetic smile.

"My apologies, Lord Slytherin. I have to find a qualified Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher before the semester begins. After the war, anyone proficient in the use of Dark Arts were arrested, and now I can't find a good Professor."

"I would say so. How can one teach how to defend against something if they don't know what they are defending against?"

McGonagall stopped her frantics to look at him. "Oh, I am sorry. It's just that Harry says the same thing, or relatively so. He was very adamant about finding a good Professor, understandably so. Any eighth year has had the unfortunate luck to have spent six years never properly learning Defense Against the Dark Arts."

"Oh? Very unfortunate, indeed."

"Yes, one year the Ministry sent one of their own to teach. Gave all the children 'practical books' that could barely pass as a Defense book. It was so extreme that Harry and two of his friends created a class for all those who were willing to learn D.A.D.A. His fifth year, I believe it was. A good teacher, Harry was."

Salazar raised an eyebrow. "If he was so proficient, why did Potter not except the job?"

"I just asked him the same thing, not but a few moments before you appeared. It would seem that the war affected him so greatly, he would prefer to not ever deal with anything relating to the Dark Arts at all, with the exception of completing this last year of D.A.D.A, that is, if we can get a professor. I'm afraid we might have to cancel the class."

"Nonsense. I will take over the class, Headmistress. I am sure I have a greater proficiency in Dark Arts than anyone not rightfully in Azkaban. My knowledge of the Art is very exceptional."

"Oh, I could not ask that of you, Lord Slytherin."

Salazar waved his hand. "Better than sitting around, twiddling my thumbs; waiting till Dumbledore returns. It will save us both, I am sure."

"I-Alright, Lord Slytherin...Or should I say Professor Slytherin now?"

Salazar gave a small, cold smile and stood with a swoosh. "Professor is fine, Headmistress. Come, Dobby. You may now show me to my rooms." He turned sharply, his cloak following with a sharp flick and walked out of the room. _These idiotic stairs are still here, I see. I wonder if it also the same gargoyle guarding it_.

Dobby followed him with a quiet squeak, scrambling to lead Salazar in the right direction. As he walked, Salazar admired the subtle changes Hogwarts took as she grew with age. A wizened air filtered about, most likely ignored by the children, and powerful magic coated the air.

Other, physical, changes happened also. Many pictures decorated the walls metal knights guarded the corners and alcoves. The stone floor was worn smooth from many feet running across it; each stone blending into the next. Salazar placed a loving hand the wall. Hogwarts grew up very happily, but she was currently in pain. She was the platform for the war and the damage took great toll on her.

"It is right up here, Lord Salazar." The house elf squeaked, his foot steps growing rushed as he reached a large picture of a very robust man sweating most profusely.

"Password." He wheezed out.

"The password is Felix Filicius, Lord Salazar." The door opened and the elf bowed low before popping away.

Salazar stepped in cautiously, expecting someone to be waiting for him. The room he entered was devoid of others and lit in a soft light, giving it a cozy feeling. It was clearly the living room; in front of a large fireplace was situated two large cream colored armchairs a large couch, also cream, and a cherry-wood coffee table. A cherry-wood desk sat in one corner a quill and ink well placed atop it. Two cherry-wood doors situated on the wall opposite the desk.

Salazar nodded in acceptance, walking towards one of the doors. It opened to reveal a black-and-green-and-silver themed bathroom. Black marble covered the floor and made up the sink, toilet, and large tub. The walls were coated in a dark forest green, green towels hanging of a silver rod to match. The shower curtain was also of a deep green.

Salazar closed the door and headed to the other door, which must have led to the bedroom. The closed door did, in fact, reveal a bedroom; decorated in a royal blue and cream colors. The four poster, king sized bed rested against the wall immediately opposite to the door Salazar entered from; it had a comforter of the royal blue and sheets of cream. The carpet was cream and the walls, blue with cream borders. A cream armchair sat in one corner and a wardrobe closet rested against one wall. A door was directly across that one.

A tad bit overwhelmed, Salazar opened the other door to come across a study in blacks and dark, almost golden, yellows. The room was mainly black; only the walls and a chair or two in the deep yellow. Everything else, bookshelves, armchairs, desks and the like, were in black. Salazar shut the door, leaning against it and closing his eyes. It would seem his rooms were decorated with the thought of _them _in mind.

The study was very subtly in Helga's color. The bedroom, obviously Rowena. The bathroom, himself naturally...And the living room...Godric. Salazar heaved a sigh. No use thinking of his lover, who probably in this time died sometime around he did; hopefully so and due to old age.

Salazar pushed himself off the door, turning to the large bed. Sleep called to him with vengeance. He stripped his clothes and slipped between the warm blanket and silk sheets. He was asleep before his head hit the pillow.


	4. No, no, Mister Potter

"Take your seats. Now!" Salazar snapped, his cloak just as sharp billowing behind him as he sauntered into the room. He stopped in front of his desk, a slight glare making its way around the room. It lingered for a second on a certain messy-haired, green-eyed man before completing its circuit.

For a week, Salazar has been teaching D.A.D.A. at Hogwarts to every grade level. He was astonished, to say the least. Many of them did not know even the simplest protection spell or any spell to defend against. There were those who participated in the war who knew more than others, such as dueling skills and a few spells, but many only survived through sheer luck. And then you had those who were like Potter and were rather proficient in Defense, but there were so few.

Fortunately, though below the level the students needed to be-with an exception of the first years-everyone was very enthusiastic about learning D.A.D.A. Most likely as a result of the war. It helped that the girls seemed to be infatuated with Salazar, and the boys seemed to hold some sort of reverence over him. It would appear that, in the future, him and the other three were known as 'Founders' and were very famous for their magical abilities.

When Salazar heard this, he couldn't help but laugh. If they knew how the others acted half the time, many would be astounded. Though the four of them were all in their mid-twenties, they all acted childish-though Salazar only did so on very rare occasions, when he was particularly happy. Godric, Helga, and Rowena, on the other hand, acted as if they were still teenagers. Rowena being the most responsible and Godric the least, naturally.

Salazar gave a quiet chuckle, then sighed, focusing on his students. Today, he had a class of Slytherins and Griffindors; in every class, his Slytherins tried their hardest to behave while the Griffindors tried to rile them up by throwing insults and pranks. It didn't take long for Salazar to see the negative tension between the two Houses and he was surprised. If only the students knew of his relationship with Godric...

"Who knows how to cast a Protego?" Salazar asked a bit too loudly, using the lesson as a distraction from thoughts of his lover. Less than half the class raised their hands, mainly from Griffindor. Salazar sighed again. The students had spent enough time on practical, they needed to really start learning other things.

"Potter! Front and center." From what he picked up, Potter was the only one in the school with more than proficient skill in the Arts. It would be best to use him for demonstrations to show the others to do a spell properly and also to provide him the chance to expel some of his extra magic. Salazar had been preparing the suppression potion for Potter and it worked well for the effects of others on him, but it didn't banish his extra magic.

Potter jumped up and quickly made his way to the front to stand next to Salazar. They shared a quick glance before Salazar turned back to his students. "Mr. Potter will assists me in demonstrating how to use a a proper Protego. The skill of using a Protego is awareness and speed. When dueling, you must be able to pay attention to different things at once, especially when dealing with more than one opponent. Now, Mr. Potter if you will."

Potter stepped a few feet back and turned to Salazar. He raised his wand in front of his face, eyes locked with Salazar, who did the same. In unison, they brought their wands sharply down. A classic wizard dueling bow. Icy blue eyes connected with brilliant green ones in an intense stare.

Suddenly, Salazar flicked up is wand. "Incendio!" A stream of red and orange fire shot from his wand, aimed at Harry. Harry's eyes widened fractionally before they narrowed and he lifted his wand.

"Protego!" The flames suddenly stopped an inch from his nose, flaring against the invisible shield. It curled upwards, slowly fading out. As the last flame died out, the class looked on with amazed silence. Many in the class only heard stories of Harry's abilities; they knew they would have been burnt to a crisp if it had been them in front of Salazar.

"Good. You may take your seat." Salazar directed at Harry, who relaxed and nodded, putting his wand away and making his way back to his seat. Salazar leveled a glare on the other students. "Can anyone tell me _why _I used that particular spell?"

Only one hand shot up, belonging to Hermione Granger. Salazar flicked his icy orbs to her, taking a moment to look her over. Second best friend to Potter and current girlfriend to Ronald Weasley; a know-it-all with a powerful mind and a love for books. Naturally, it would be her to know the answer and no doubt the others didn't apply themselves on knowledge that Granger would be in the teacher's favor for answers. But not anymore.

Salazar smirked slightly. "Miss Granger, if you would quit your waving and put your hand down. I _know _you know the answer, but the goal in this class is to _learn _not get the answer correct."

Granger pursed her lips, brown eyes narrowing slightly. Her hand slowly came down to rest on her lap. "Perfectly understandable, Professor. But I don't think no one else knows the answer." She replied smugly.

Everyone in the room could see the slight clench in Salazar's jaw and the way his eyes narrowed dangerously. "Well, Miss Granger." He purred out in a deadly soft tone. "This is amusing. Seeing as my other classes caught on easily, what makes it _that _much harder for this particular class to understand? Are you implying that your fellow classmates are incompetent?" He raised an eyebrow as she paled. "Because, I noticed many who recognized the purpose of my spell. Many who were in the process of raising their hand when you so eagerly raised your own. In seeing your raised hand, the others then believed their answer is most likely wrong because _you, _Miss Granger, would have the correct one. Not mentioning the fact that there is a possibility that you could be wrong, but I have noticed that in this particular class, no one applies themselves instead choosing the easy way out by letting you do all the work.

"So I will repeat myself, and once will I do this as I am not the fondest of having to do so, but the _goal _in this class is to _learn. _And you will do well to respect that. That brain of yours is truly a gift, but over using it will result in not only harming yourself, but your peers. Consider what I have said." Many were now staring wide-eyed at Salazar by the end of his speech. Professors didn't usually take that tone with students. Then again, Salazar wasn't your average Professor. He softened his glare and swept his eyes across the room. "Now, who can answer the question?"

For a heartbeat, no one moved. The, one feeble, very hesitant hand rose in the air; trembling violently from what was most likely fear. Salazar's eyes tracked that hand down to the owner, his eyes widening. The students stared in shock as something happened that they never thought would possibly happen, ever. Salazar's face softened into a warm smile, directed st the particular student.

"Yes, Mister Longbottom." He said encouragingly. Neville Longbottom was his quietest, shiest student at Hogwarts and usually sat in the back to avoid attention. From what he heard, the poor boy was worse before the war; constantly shying away from everything and carrying a terrible stutter. Do to his fear of everything, he managed to mess up just about everything and never showed any magical potential. But Salazar could see the brilliance in the boy and was more than ready to show everyone else.

"I-uh-well..y-yes, sir. Yo-ah-you used 'Incendio' because it is a physically visible spell. Ah, I mean, you can see it. S-so when H-Harry cast 'Protego', e-everyone had a visual of how the shield charm worked. Th-The flame from the cast 'Incendio' provided a sort of...illusion of how the shield from a 'Protego' would look like..." Longbottom trailed off, blushing tomato red.

"Correct, Mister Longbottom." Salazar shot Longbottom another warm smile before twisting into a malicious smirk the students were more familiar with. "Did everyone get that? Because I hope you did for you will be doing a partner project on a demonstration similar to Potter and mine's."

Groans were heard throughout the room.

* * *

Harry was _beyond _furious._ How dare Slytherin treat Hermione that way, she was just trying to answer the damned question! He had no right, none! _Harry saw the way Slytherin treated Neville, and it made him angry for the sudden change in mood. _One second, he's getting on Hermione's case, and then Neville gets the special treatment. _

Don't get Harry wrong, he's still Neville's friend and all; he's happy that his friend was able to answer the question correctly even if it was slightly confusing. But the way he treated Hermione just because she was smart before hand was just plain wrong.

Harry steamed for the rest of class, not even reacting properly when he was paired up with Draco. He, Draco and, Snape decided it would be best if the three of them pretended to still hate each other as they did before the war. None of them wanted to feel the wrath from their Houses nor have to answer any questions that were sure to come up. And Draco and Harry wanted to protect the students from Snape's inevitable temper from too many asked questions.

Glancing up at Slytherin, Harry gritted his teeth. This was the last class and it was an hour till dinner; Harry would take a moment to talk to their new Professor.

When the bell rang, Harry got many stares as he stayed in his seat after packing his belongings. A paper landed on his desk; Draco sent him a note.

_Everything okay?_

Harry looked up at the blonde, giving a subtle nod. Draco's eyes darkened a moment before he nodded in return and left. Harry turned just as Hermione and Ron approached him.

"Oi, mate. Let's go, yeah? I want to get a game of Exploding Snap in before Hermione forces us to do our homework." Hermione scowled at Ron.

"Ronald Weasley! Excuse me for having a well being for your education." Ron rolled his eyes, flapping his hand at Hermione.

"Guys, go on without me. I have to talk to Slytherin for a moment." Both Hermione and Ron turned to Harry, concern on their faces.

"Everything okay mate?"

"Yeah, I just need to talk to him about...about the pairing up." Harry grimaced at the lame excuse. Thankfully, Ron bought it, realization dawning on his face.

"Oh, yeah. No doubt you don't want to be paired up with the ferret. Alright, we'll meet you in the dorm before dinner, yeah? Come on, 'Mione. 'M sure your homework's awaitin'." Hermione's eyes narrowed calculating at Harry, but allowed Ron to drag her away.

Harry sighed in relief before steeling his resolve and turning to face Slytherin, who was staring at the in amusement and curiosity, his stance now relaxed and casually leaning on his desk. Harry took a deep breath and marched up to Slytherin, stopping a foot or so away with his arms crossed and eyes glaring.

Slytherin smirked. "Yes, Mister Potter? Was there something you needed?"

"Not exactly, Professor. You see, the way you treated Hermione was not proper teacher conduct." Harry gritted out, irritated by the smirk on Slytherin's face. Why he thought the man was attractive when he first arrived, Harry will never know.

Amusement disappeared from Slytherin's face. "Miss Granger? Teacher conduct?" He gave a dark, humorless chuckle. "Mister Potter, I think you are sorely mistaken. You see, last I checked, this is _my _classroom. Meaning _my _rules." He leaned closer to Harry, till their noses were but an inch apart. "You had your chance to become Professor of this subject, yet you denied it. You have no right to tell me how to teach my class."

His last words were a whisper and his breath brushed across Harry's lips, making the younger man swallow and close his eyes. He was reminded very sharply of why he was attracted to Slytherin. Keeping his eyes closed, Harry responded in a slightly shaky voice.

"I understand that, Professor, and I respect your wishes. But Hermione is my friend and I will _not _allow my friends to be disrespected like that, even if the causer is a teacher. This is only a suggestion, but could you _at least _say it nicer, or wait till after class to explain to her why she shouldn't do what she did. We are all aware in Hermione's eagerness to learn and we respect that. It would help if you learn to do the same."

Harry's eyes snapped open into a glare, only to widen in surprise at the close proximity of Slytherin's icy blue eyes. He licked his lips, refusing to stand down to the older man, if only to get his point across. Slytherin looked thoughtful, his eyes locked with Harry's.

After what seemed like an eternity, he leaned back, returning to his position on his desk. Inwardly, Harry gave a sigh of relief. He couldn't further deny his attraction for the blue eyed man, and was afraid Slytherin would see it in his eyes.

Harry figured out he was gay a long time ago. Sometime in fifth year, Ginny suddenly became more feminine and Harry wasn't attracted to her anymore. No other girl really caught his attention, not that he was looking, and Harry just assumed he wasn't ready to be in a relationship because of the war. Then, he spent the holidays at the Burrow and Charlie came home.

Harry couldn't explain it, but he knew he didn't feel the same for Charlie as he did the other Weasley's. Though he was accepted into the Weasley's and they became his surrogate family, he never really saw any of the oldest Weasley boys as brothers. Bill, Charlie, and Percy were always away at work and weren't that close to Harry. That's why, when Harry saw Charlie, he only believed it was apprehension about becoming friends with the man.

But then, one night after a game of Quidditch, Harry caught Charlie as the man was exiting the shower. The burning heat he felt in his nether regions gave him away, and Harry realized he was gay. Luckily, Charlie figured it out to and it turned out he was also gay. He helped Harry figure everything out and became his moral support, but one thing led to another and they had a short fling. Neither of them regretted it, but then again, neither of them brought it up either.

"Alright." Harry jumped, startled, and looked up wide-eyed at Slytherin.

"Huh?" He responded stupidly.

Slytherin tsked. "I told you already, Mister Potter. I do not like repeating myself."

Harry shook his head. "No. I mean, you accept? So easily? I-why?"

Slytherin tsked again. "You should not ask questions, Mister Potter, and be happy I agreed." He smirked, tilting his head to the side and allowing a few strands of hair to lie across his face. "Or is there something else you wanted."

It was a statement, not a question and Harry knew it. He swallowed, taking a step back. Inside, he was beating himself up. _Shit! He noticed. _Slytherin's smirk became predatory and he took a large step, pulling himself flush against Harry and grabbing on to the green eyed man's upper arms.

"No, no, Mister Potter." He murmured. "No leaving just yet."


	5. New Chances with New People

I'm sorry sorry sorry. My internet is down right now. I'm at the library typing this, could you believe it? Ugh, I'm so sorry.

* * *

_Previously~_

_It was a statement, not a question and Harry knew it. He swallowed, taking a step back. Inside, he was beating himself up. _Shit! He noticed_. Slytherin's smirk became predatory and he took a large step, pulling himself flush against Harry and grabbing on to the green eyed man's upper arms._

_"No, no, Mister Potter." He murmured. "No leaving just yet."_

* * *

Salazar wasn't sure what made him do it, but he suddenly felt the urge to bend Potter over a desk and fuck him senseless. Of course, he had a higher decorum then that, so Salazar grabbed the smaller man as he made to leave and pulled Potter closer to his body.

It was satisfying to see those brilliant green eyes widen with many emotions. Shock, surprise, fear, and what Salazar cared about the most at that moment, lust and desire. His lips curled into a sly smile and leaned into the man.

"No, no, Mister Potter." He said, looking into those deep green eyes and leaning into the smaller man's soft, yet muscled body. "No leaving just yet."

Potter let a soft groan pass his lips before he squeezed them tightly shut, his eyes darting away from Salazar's. Salazar narrowed his eyes and pressed his body into Potter's, making sure to rub his groin against him. Potter's eyelashes fluttered and his hands flew up pushed against Salazar's chest. It was a light push, not really meant to move someone, but Salazar let go and stepped back anyway.

Potter was unprepared for Salazar's sudden movement anD stumbled forward, barely catching himself and looking up at Salazar in surprise. Salazar smirked and backed away to lean on his desk, staring at Potter with heavy lidded eyes.

Potter straightened, his cheeks dark red, and began to stumble to the door. Salazar laughed after him, watching as the man struggled to get to the door in his current dazed state.

Salazar watched the boy with low-lidded eyes sparkling with satisfaction. Potter reminded him of Godric in their younger days, when the man was just a boy who had not quite yet developed the attributes that made him famous in this day and age. A time when Salazar was a bit more open with others than now…

"_Godric!" A teenage Salazar laughed, chasing after a blushing, harassed looking teenage Godric around a small meadow. It was less than five years ago, but the two men looked much younger than they actually were. Time spent on stress and responsibility would add lines to their faces in those later years. _

_Godric gave a mock frightened look over his shoulder at the paler boy behind him. Unfortunately, that look slowed him down and lost that small lead he had. Salazar took advantage in his lapse of speed and pounced, him and Godric tumbling to the soft grass beneath. _

_The larger, darker boy laughed as Salazar's more slender body sprawled across his chest, his pale face flushed red. Salazar turned to scowl at Godric, unable to hold the expression when his face broke into a smile and he also began to laugh. _

_Their shared laugh echoed throughout the meadow, creating a delusion of delightful magic across it. Yet indeed, the two young boy's magic gently swirled together and blew across the meadow, magnifying their joy at simply being together. _

_Salazar always had the inkling feeling that somehow, he and Godric would and always will be connected to each other. It was outstanding how well the two opposite boys came together, almost as natural as breathing, that's how connected they were. _

_Though there were moments that Salazar felt that something was off. Sometimes he felt as though Godric was not the right one. There were times when they were simply holding each other, and it was uncomfortable for Salazar. He usually dismissed the feeling, but slowly it was growing stronger._

_There were also moments when he felt like Godric wasn't…the Godric he wanted. Sometimes it was like he wanted all that personality of the man, but in a different body. It made no sense, but that is how he felt. _

_A rumble disrupted his thoughts and Salazar looked down fondly at a sleeping Godric, not moving in case he woke the darker-haired man. It did not matter, he and Godric belonged together. _

Salazar scowled at the memory. He did well to not think about Godric while in the future and he did not plan to change that. It was strange to think about his flame, when he clearly felt something for the Potter boy.

Even more stranger was the striking resemblance the two shared. From what he observed, Potter was everything like Godric, and yet was still somehow more mature. It was hard not to be attracted to the fiery man.

And he was extremely talented, Potter. The raw ability he used with ease was something he hadn't seen since he was an extremely young boy, chasing after old man Merlin. But the boy only used a bare minimum of his power. Salazar would have to fix that. He hated to see someone so talented not work to their full potential.

But first, he would get what he wanted. Potter was a delectable piece of work and Salazar planned to eat him up. He did not feel guilty. His relationship with Godric was going down hill anyway and it was a matter of time till they would've broke it off. Then the idiot went and sent him into the future...

Salazar reminded himself to check out that stone. It was unfamiliar to him, but it was possible that here in the future the origin of the stone has long since been figured out. He would ask McGonagall. But later...for now, his goal would be to convince Harry to willingly come to his bed.

An image of the flustered brunette imbedded itself in Salazar's head, pestering him endlessly. He had to have Potter.


End file.
